November 2011
19 posts
1 tag
On talent and forgiveness.
I wish I could write a book beautiful enough to justify breaking all of the hearts I’ve broken.
I wish I didn’t confuse talent with consistency and desirability.
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I am a shell of a person. There is nothing beating inside of me. Nothing rushing. Nothing banging up against the sides of my ribcage. There is too much space. Too much possibility to mistake me as hollow.
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You won’t love her. You won’t be able to. You will want her. You will want her in the evenings with a drink. You will dream about wild sex with her and, if you’re lucky, you will have it, but she can’t be loved. You’ll hate yourself for being unable to care about her more and there she will go, nodding out of your life without ever bowing into it. She will regard you...
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“Beauty is after all the only thing in the world that matters — not mental or...”
– Dawn Powell
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“Contrary to popular belief, it’s not something you can cure just by surrounding...”
– Kara VanderBijil
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Eager: about you and books.
I’m constantly getting over anticipatory about things, constantly convincing myself that I have to read this book and I have to read it now because it is going to change my life. That is just a lot to ask of a book. Not that books aren’t capable of that, but that life changing rarely feels as crisp as shutting a book on its final page.
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Thoughts on elsewhere.
You have to be able to do it on your own. NY teaches you that. It provides the foundation for all of your loneliest fantasies. It shows you that each day is an event and while that can sometimes be exhausting, the city is mostly rewarding when you dare to show up. So go. It doesn’t matter that you have no one to go with. Buy yourself a drink. See that new movie with Whole Food’s snacks...
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A week ago I uttered your name for the first time in over a year. A week ago you appeared before me and I felt lost and turned away. But there you were and there I stayed and there you led me to you a week later. I felt good about this until the following afternoon. I felt un-phased until I crumbled into the young person I am, but would rather not appear to be. I found you. I slid right up next to...
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Things I've done in this dress since putting it on...
Hugged you goodbye.
Let myself out.
Got lost in Brooklyn.
Turned off my phone.
Kept walking.
Stopped walking.
Hailed a cab slowly, but surely.
Spent too much money.
Stared.
Wrote some.
Drove too fast while too tired.
Yelled and cried and made gestures of pointed seriousness.
Ate spoonfuls of peanut butter.
Slept.
Hiked in the preserved Connecticut wilderness.
Hoisted myself...
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“Only part of us is sane: only part of us loves pleasure and the longer day of...”
– Rebecca West
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I am your urging mistress and your forgotten lady and the girl you lost and will lose again and the lover that housed you and the fuck you needed just once and the glimmering one that followed you home and the woman that used you and barely a person at all.
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“I am over rape.
I am over rape culture, rape mentality, rape pages on...”
– Eve Ensler
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Going.
Because I have to.
Because it’s the only thing I know to be real.
Because it’s always worth it.
Because you have to chose me this time.
Because when everything else falls apart, my bones will always be there to cling to.
Because the world only makes sense from there.
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Is my purposeless the same as your purposeless? Why does my purposeless leave me here, in bed, squeezing my eyes shut against the world of opportunity out there? Why does your purposeless take you outside? He said he was glad I was laughing about it and I wondered if I should be taking it more seriously.
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We stood there. With all of them. As I smoked my cherished blacks that I have been smoking far too often for them to be considered cherished and I held it out to him and he took a drag and lifted my chin and kissed me and the smoke moved between our lungs. I wasn’t sure of here. Of this proclamation of his and an hour later it seemed like less of a proclamation, like maybe I should have left...
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“He could feel the outside world closing in on him, demanding his consideration,...”
– Jonathan Franzen
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vigor
I just keep saying it out loud. Over and over again. I am the happiest girl in the world. I am the happiest girl in the world. And I just want you to grab me and hold me, wrapped in your arms. Tell me that you want to drown in my lies. That as we go down, drowning in them together, they will become true.
